We Were Heroes
by Jake the Drake
Summary: Civil war among the gods has caused World War II. Who will restore balance and figure out the threat that is spawning all these mythical monsters? Two demigods in the U.S. military: sons of Ares and Hermes. Rated T for language and violence. Inspired by Medal of Honor: Allied Assault and Army of Two. DISCONTINUED due to Writer's Block, which lead to author's loss of interest.
1. Alarm

**This is not a crossover. It tells what World War II would be like in the world of PJO. Speaking of that, I don't own PJO. The entire story will be in one POV so you guys won't have to worry about POV switching... unless you want me to.**

**Another thing: I do not wish to offend any religious people due to the presence of Nazis in the story. It's how people thought of things back then. Later in the story, I might add the famous Invasion of Normandy (D-Day) and it will be _intense._**

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**September 14, 1942**

I was sleeping soundly in my bunk when the alarm sounded. We were on the _USS Suburbia_ in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with the rest of the battleships. Everyone, including me, immediately woke up, strapped on our suits, and rushed to their positions down the corridors of the carrier. My duty was the gun cage with a son of Ares named Desmond Lance, but I like to call him "Des" for short.

I tore through petty officers and privates, and finally arrived at the armory. Desmond was too busy handing out Thompsons (loaded with mortal bullets, of course) and celestial bronze swords to realize I was standing right next to him. His muscles bulged underneath his white t-shirt and his face looked brutal as if he'd been through several fights with a chicken or some other kind of poultry.

"Damn it, Lieutenant," he said. I guess my cover's been blown already, "You're still bad at being Hermes' kid."

"One could ever know," I sighed, "Is this a drill?"

"No! Admiral Carthage spotted Heinkel He 50's on the radar."

Heinkel He 50's were a type of reconnaissance plane. They were designed to drop bombs and shoot from equipped machine guns. I walked into one of the sword aisles, "Did he say how close?"

"Find out for yourself!"

That's Des for you: always leaving it to me who makes things complicated. By the way, Admiral Carthage was a son of Poseidon (and it wasn't him that started this war). I sheathed a bronze dagger and flew out the door before Des could realize I'm gone. At the end of the steel hallway, I climbed the ladder to find at least a dozen fighter planes in the distance, but to me they looked like flying ants. The battleships in our fleet slowly took formations and primed their artillery cannons.

A yell echoed below me, "Get down here, Alex!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," I irritatingly replied. Before I could climb down the ladder, I decided to grab the nearby pair of binoculars. Through the lenses, the planes had Nazi symbols on their wings. I could even spot a few bombs from the underbellies of the planes too if I looked carefully enough.

Then, someone snatched the binoculars out of my hands and I realized that it was Des. It's a miracle that I even get along with him when he's such a kleptomaniac.

"I was looking through those!" I complained. He ignored me and stared through the binoculars.

"Oh Styx," he cursed, "They're coming alright."

"Major Lance and Lieutenant Wilson, why might you two gentlemen be doing up here when you're supposed to be in the gun cage?" a voice boomed from behind us.

"Damn you, Des," I whispered to him, "You got us busted again."

"Hey, it's not my fault you wanted to see the Germans," he said. We both turned around to face Admiral Carthage, our hands crossed behind our backs. Carthage had his jet black hair gelled sideways as he always had it when he was seventeen, which was thirteen years ago. His gloved hands were firmly clutching the ship railing like he was going to bend it in two.

"Sorry sir," Desmond spoke, "We were...um, distracted."

"Distracted?" Admiral Carthage asked, "I can't see how views of the German air force can keep sailors distracted."

"It won't happen again," I said, tugging on Des's hand towards the ladder. Carthage eyed us the entire way down.

Once we were inside the hallway again, Des said, "You really need to stop doing that."

"I am majority and majority is just a prediction," I explained, "You can't predict when I'm going to do something stupid."

He started walking ahead of me and snorted, "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious!"

Des stopped and turned towards me, "Do you have any idea what war we're in?!"

"World War Two."

"All you do is act funny about it! This is serious and you're not."

"You're a son of war and blood lust, Major," I said, "You should act grateful."

"Times change when duty calls."

I dropped the subject and enter the armory again. This time, I didn't run off to anywhere in particular and continued to hand out weapons. I hate the gun cage. It's annoying and boring and all you do is sit around fixing guns and sharpen swords. It sucks. If you get landed in here, it is actually Hades with incandescent lighting. Why did I even get assigned this in the first place? Oh, right.... never mind.

Before the cage, I was assigned the engines with a Hephaestus guy. He'd told me to shovel it in the furnace and I started to argue with the captain. And when I wasn't looking, I accidentally shoveled coal into the wrong furnace and it exploded. I guess that's the whole story.  
The intercom blared, "German air force—ten minutes before arrival!"

"You best suit up with the best weapons you can get, Lieutenant," Desmond said.

"Since when are you giving advice?" I asked.

He growled, "Maybe it's just the right time to."

I put my hands up in surrender and started rummaging through drawers for a pistol but none held any. Then I just gave up and left myself with a celestial bronze dagger. Suddenly, I heard an explosion from below us.

"What was that?" I asked, feeling like a fool as usual.

"The explosion was caused by a torpedo," Des said, "But... there weren't any U-boats on the radar..."

Another explosion almost caused me to fall to the floor. Major Lance rose from his seat and walked into one of the aisles and came out with two M1 Garands, a type of rifle, handing one of them to me. We both ran down the steel hallway of the _USS Suburbia_ and climbed the ladder again.

The afternoon sun blinded me for a second and my vision showed three buoys in the distance. Wait... they weren't buoys. They were the tops of German U-boats, but to me they looked like gray bumps in the water. U-boats are like submarines, except more brutal. Some things that are large can deceive the mind into believing it's small. I dashed across the catwalk of the battleship, not caring if Major Des would follow, and raced to the command deck.

Finally, Admiral Carthage came in view. I climbed up the ladder to find him arguing with one of the seamen. The argument stopped when the seaman noticed me. Carthage turned around. His blue suit had five military badges on his left shoulder.

I saluted to him, "Admiral, German U-Boats are sighted."

He saluted back to me and his face turned confused, "I never saw any on the radar."

I pointed out to the north where the U-boats were surfacing. Carthage immediately grabbed a pair of binoculars from the seaman and stared through them. After a while, another explosion boomed from below us.

Desmond finally caught up with me, "Do you have any idea—" he stopped himself and saluted when he noticed the admiral. Standing straight, Des was a head taller than me.

Carthage slowly returned the binoculars to his comrade and stared overseas.

"Orders sir?" Des asked over the sound of whipping waters. The sun was beating down on us like Apollo wanted us to die of heat stroke. The German planes were flying closer by the second.

The admiral shifted his white military cap, "Blow τους σε όλα τα Τάρταρα."

"Yes sir!" Des saluted. He went to the artillery deck to order the engineers to prime. As for me, being a child of communication, I ordered all the ships in the fleet (via radio) to attack any plane or German U-boat in sight. People scrambled to their positions.

I kept my M1 Garand close to my side. They weren't really the best weapon but they sure did the trick when it comes to brutal fighting and medium range. Unfortunately, the Nazi's had the better weapons.

One of the U-boats in the distance started to rise above the surface of the water. Smoke bellowed and antennae stuck up from the top. The steel covering is literally bulletproof, but not good enough for a ten ton artillery bullet to punch through its hull. Railing formed a perimeter around the top of the submersibles. A Nazi symbol and and identification were printed on their sides.

"Πυρ κατά βούληση!" Major Desmond called in Ancient Greek. Bone-shattering _BOOM_'s echoed for miles on end. Some of the planes in the sky sputtered with smoke, even a few managed to crash into the water. I had to plug my ears with my hands because the sound was so loud.

Heinkel He 50's started to dive bomb and shoot at us, and I knew the battle had begun.

* * *

**Greek Translation 1:** _Blow them to Tartarus._

**Greek Translation 2:** _Fire at will!_


	2. Distress Signal

**Remember that there are also mortals on the ships and none of them know about demigods and all that Greek mythology stuff. So when they see a sword, they see a gun. All language translations will be held at the bottom of every chapter.**

* * *

A few of the bullets peppered the east end of the battleship in front of us. Everyone started shooting to the sky while artillery fired one by one. I aimed with my M1 Garand, but one of the bullets sheared it out of my hands and into the waters. Well, there goes my defense. Looks like I'm going to have to treat the wounded instead.

Another group of planes swooped in and dropped a bomb on the other side of the _USS Suburbia_. It made my eardrums rattle and numb, but I eventually shook it off and ran over to the nearest wounded person I could find, which wasn't far. Admiral Carthage happened to be staring at the three Undersea-boats and I could tell that he was channeling his "water powers" or summoning some aquatic beast by the looks of his face.

I knelt next to the Hephaestus guy I'd worked with in the engine room. His upper left arm was grazed with celestial shrapnel. I managed to drag him over to a safe and distant place behind the ship's antennae tower and take out a bag of ambrosia and a roll of bandages.

The Hephaestus guy moaned as I fed him a square and dabbed at his wound with a cloth. He winced in pain when I tried to acquire antibiotics to the wound. Desmond barked orders to the artillery cannons and they fired on his command. Carthage had somehow conjured up a maelstrom that rammed the U-boats together, making two of them explode and sink beneath the water.

"You're going to make it," I promised the Hephaestus guy. Apparently, my promise wasn't kept because a bullet landed right in the heart of the man. Everything I say is somehow jinxed, and I hate it. Blood stained through his shirt until I had to look away.

I caught sight of one the fighter planes was making its way for another shot at the _USS Suburbia_. When it flew over the ship, two missiles dropped from its underbelly and landed right in front of me. These missiles were no ordinary missiles; they were capsules by the looks of it.

I took out my bronze dagger and held it firmly in front of me as the capsules started to bellow steam and the small doors opened. What happened next was... so totally hilarious, I almost burst out laughing, but I managed to bite my lip. Two bald little men walked out of each capsule with murderous wrinkled faces.

They both wore extra small gray tuxedos with coat tails. I was beginning to think that these were gremlins or leprechauns, but they weren't real. In Greek reality, everything was real, unnatural, or just plain weird. So they must be hobbits.

The beardless dwarves cracked their meaty knuckles and said in unison, "Zeit Ihren Esel zu treten!"

Their German voices were small and sounded like they were being half-strangled, but managed to make me double over in laughter. One of them kicked me hard in the shin and I crumbled to the ground. The other midget joined in by kicking me in the side.

I couldn't find the time to lift myself up because those kicks really hurt. Out of the corner of my bruised eye, Desmond ran towards me, brutally kicking one of the dwarves and sent the midget flying over the railing and into the water.

"Get off of him!" he yelled. Des got punched in the gut and he recoiled backwards. He finally regained his strength by grabbing the shirt collar of the little man and lifting him up to his level. The dwarf, however, kept kicking wherever he could find a weakness while grabbing Desmond's hand grasped around his neck.

Just then, he punched the midget in the head and sent him hurling into the water. As for Admiral Carthage up on the command deck, he fell to his knees and started panting like he got shot in the back or just came out from gym class. I picked myself up and rubbed my bruised eye when Des grabbed out his M1 Garand from his back and aimed at one of the planes.

A loud _PA-TUHH_ bellowed from his rifle and the plane erupted in flames and spun towards the Atlantic Ocean. I ran towards the admiral up on the command deck while crouching and dodging flying bullets. When I neared him, an explosion from behind sent me flying in front of Carthage. All sound was muffled like I'd just gotten the shock from an artillery round. My vision blurred and sound finally returned to my ears.

"Are you hurt?" I asked over the sound of gunfire and artillery. Admiral Carthage winced and grabbed his left side where blood started to ooze through his suit. I lifted myself up and carried the son of Poseidon inside the command center.

Setting him against the wall, I ripped open his suit and started treating his bullet wound. Screams of terror echoed and more of those capsules were dropped on all the ships of the fleet and more of those beardless dwarves sprang out to attack people. They can be vicious when underestimated.

Just when I was finished bandaging the admiral's bullet wound, another one of those midgets was standing in the doorway, cracking his knuckles. I started rummaging through my suit for a dagger but it must've been knocked out of my hands the last time I got kicked by one of those things.

Admiral Carthage went for his suit pocket and pulled out a small leather sheath with a knife. The midget guy was walking closer to us by the second so I grabbed the pocket and ripped off the leather top. In about a half a second, it grew to a three-foot long double-bladed sword and the grip expanded into a leather hilt with bronze tips.

The dwarf stopped and flinched backwards, but he didn't loose his murderous look he was giving me. I stepped forward and raised the sword. Suddenly, another explosion flew me across the room and Carthage's sword was out of my reach.

"Kein Schwert, kein Gewehr," hissed the little man, "Sieht aus, wie Sie draußen, Junge verrottet worden sind."

The admiral struggled to reach the sword a few feet away from him as the little man walked towards me. My eye sight was blurry so I didn't know whether the guy was taking a lollipop out of his sleeve or maybe it was a knife. Pray to the gods that it isn't a knife, or I'm done for. Unfortunately, it is.

I was backing against the wall, trying to get away from the midget dude, when Carthage grabbed the bronze sword and quickly slashed right through the man and he burst into a cloud of yellow powder.

"That was a close call," the admiral coughed. An explosion sent the wooden flooring to literally rattle. The sound of gunfire echoed outside along with horrifying screams.

He grabbed my hand and led me outside, "C'mon! The ship's sinking!"

I didn't argue with him along the way. When we were finally outside, two of the ships of the fleet had been sunken by the Heinkel He 50's. Our ship was tilted sideways as if a torpedo just took out the starboard side. Some of the sailors jumped over the railing with their clothes on fire or with scorched and cut faces. I never had seen so much fighting since the past month, but I've seen worse.

We rushed to the lower deck and spotted a small boat with a large machine gun attached to the top. Carthage slashed through dozens of those midget people with his magic sword. He jumped in the life boat and the engine automatically started without requiring the key.

"Find Major Lance!" he barked before I could leap in, "He would know how to fire that machine gun!"

"Yes sir!" I saluted. Storming off into the other direction, I already caught sight of Des fighting off those gray-suited dwarves behind one of the ship's artillery cannons. His M1 Garand was knocked into the water but he kicked the little man in return and sending him over the railing.

"Des!" I called. He looked up with a scraped up face. His shirt had scorch holes in it and his skin was grazed by shrapnel.

"C'mon!" I desperately grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the boat. We dodged several flying bullets and when we finally arrived back at the boat; Des immediately mounted the machine gun. As for me, I ducked down into the corner while Carthage steered the boat away from the _USS Suburbia_ and Des clicked the gun into place and aimed into the air where the rest of the planes were. _Chik-Choo, Chik-Choo, Chik-Choo!_

"Lieutenant!" Carthage called over the chaos, "Get a hold of that radio! Send a distress signal to Portsmouth, England! Tell them, the reinforcements weren't able to make it! Were all that's left!"

"Aye aye, sir!" I replied. Grabbing the transmitter off the radio, I dialed the coordinates to the right station and sent the Morse code:

_... --- ... ..-. .-.. . . - ..- -. .- -... .-.. . - --- .- .-. .-. .. ...- . - .. -- . .-.. -.-- ..- ... ... ... ..- -... ..- .-. -... .. .- .. ... -.. --- .-- -. ... --- ... _

_

* * *

_

**German Translation 1: **_Time to kick your ass!_

**German Translation 2: **_No sword, no gun. Looks like you've been rotted out, boy._

**Morse Code Translation:** _SOS! Fleet unable to arrive timely! USS Suburbia is down! SOS!_


	3. Iris Message

After the last of the German airplanes were shot down and all the midget people were dead, I transmitted the rest of the distress signal and slumped down on the shotgun seat.

"So what'd we do now, huh?" I asked glumly. Desmond sat down beside me and started to watch the conflagration growing on the ships. The _USS_ _Suburbia_ was almost under the surface along with the rest of them.

"I'm going to try and scavenge," Carthage said, "I'll come back with a few supplies to last us a few days until rescue comes."

And with that, he leaped into the water without taking his clothes off. I could see him dive deeper than I would've thought possible until he faded in the darkness. I don't know the powers of a son of Poseidon, but I hope he comes back alive and breathing.

The summer heat was beating down on us and I already broke into a sweat-fest. A few minutes later, Des started a conversation only a son of Hades would start.

"I wonder if Admiral Carthage would bring back all the dead corpses," he said.

"Oh, so you want to smell rotten bodies for days on end?" I asked incredulously.

"No, because the marines leave no men behind."

"You're starting to act like Hades," I hung my head down and shifted my feet.

"They never brought back the dead during the last few wars."

"Maybe we don't have the time to. Maybe we have to bail out when there's a huge threat ready to blow us to Tartarus!" I started getting angry with him. It's so easy to get mad when you're arguing with a son of Ares.

"Oh, so you'd rather be a coward and flee for your life than to help a fellow soldier get back home? Fuck you!"

"Screw you!" I backfired, "I meant that command on war have much more problems than saving one man!"

Desmond slowly stood with a murderous expression on his face, "Don't make me drown you, Alex."

"We would lose about one-third of our military if we waste time saving one stupid hostage!"

"You're asking for it," he warned me.

"It's true, don't blame me. The gods don't care, so why should I care?"

In about three seconds, he viciously grabbed a hold of my head and pulled it over the boat's edge. He plunged my face into the water before I could take a breath. Bubbles rose to the surface and I started choking when I heard a yell.

Des pulled me out of the water and literally flew me across the motor boat. I coughed and wiped the dirty-blond hair out of my eyes to find the admiral standing with an agitated look on his face. His clothes weren't even wet, not even the army green sack that was sitting beside him.

"What's the meaning of this?" Carthage irritatingly asked. Desmond ran his hand through his pompadour hair and sighed.

"He was getting on my last nerve, sir," he said.

"Because all other nerves popped?" I coughed.

The admiral rummaged through his green sack and pulled out an old portable radio and another bag full of food and drinks. He turned the dial on the radio and static filled the air until a song faded in. I sat in the gunner seat of the motor boat and stared at the broken propellers and large shrapnel floating in the water. Parched, I asked Carthage if he could hand me a glass bottle of Coca-Cola and I immediately sipped until it was half empty. A flock of seagulls flew overhead when I couldn't contain my ADHD and started mumbling to myself about random stuff that comes into my head. The radio blurred _Happy Days Are Here_.

Des broke the silence and asked, "Did you see the Battle of Midway, admiral?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Probably enclosed in a submarine," I blurted, "Typical son of Poseidon."

"I was assigned as a captain of a destroyer, actually."

I crossed my arms and leaned back in the gunner seat, "Whatever."

"Any weird monsters?" Desmond asked while scanning the horizon.

The admiral propped his feet up on the bench, "Laistrygonians, Scythian dracaenae, killer munchkins, Cyclopes, basilisks, and even cockatrices."

Des widened his eyes, "Cockatrices? You mean those giant poisonous roosters?"

"Yeah, there was a rumor that they could kill whatever stared at them. That's definitely a misrepresentation. They kill when cockatrices breathe on their victims, as far as research at Camp Half-Blood goes."

"I miss that place," I sadly said. I remember memories I had when I was a kid, even when I wasn't granted _one _quest from the Oracle.

"Heh," Des scoffed, "Can't go back now. We don't have enough gasoline to make past the Sea of Monsters, not even the firepower."

The rest of us didn't say anything afterwards. A few minutes went by and I felt like I was working on my tan or being roasted by Apollo, since he's with Zeus and not Poseidon. It's a good thing that Artemis and her Hunters argued with Apollo and is now sided with us.

This war really sucks. I've been on coast guard duty for a year and now I'm officially promoted from a private to a lieutenant for hacking into the system and changing my statistics, just because I needed to assist in the war. Blame Chiron for making me; that old horseman.

I went over to mess with the communication next to the wheel of the motor boat. Turning the dial and strapping on headphones, I was immediately transferred a signal through short and long beeps; Morse code.

_..- ... ... ... ..- -... ..- .-. -... .. .- --..-- -.. --- -.-- --- ..- -.-. --- .--. -.-- ..--.. - .... .. ... .. ... - .... . .... -- ... .- -. -. .. .... .. .-.. .- - --- .-. --- ..-. - .... . .-. --- -.-- .- .-.. -. .- ...- -.-- .-. . --.- ..- . ... - .. -. --. .-. . .--. . - .. - .. --- -. --- ..-. -.-. --- --- .-. -.. .. -. .- - . ... .-.-.-_

"Guys?" I asked over the loop of the message.

Carthage immediately came over, "What's it saying?"

"The _HMS Annihilation _wants coordinates. So, Mr. Human-GPS, where are we?"

He told me the coordinates and I transferred them back to the station via vibroplex, a small semiautomatic instrument that sends Morse code.

"I have an idea," Carthage stated, "ask them where they are. It'll be much faster if we get to them as they get to us."

"Right on," I said, tapping the vibroplex's peddle. After the message was sent, it was replied by a series of screeches. That wasn't Morse code _at all. _Suddenly, it was replaced by static.

"Holy Hermes…" I astonishingly said, "Their station just cut out on me."

"Try another station," the admiral softly ordered. I turned the dial on the radio and before I could get a clear station, Desmond scoffed like we did something totally neurotic. He was too busy staring at debris to even talk to us. I didn't care. He'd dunked my head in the water for talking too much about a "sensitive" subject.

For some strange reason, all the stations on the radio were full of static like an electromagnetic shockwave just busted all of the electronic stuff.

"I can't get anything," I said, "If only there were other demigods stationed in Portsmouth, we could Iris-message them."

"So much for Old Seaweed's ideas," Des muttered.

Admiral Carthage glared at him and turned back to me, "I'll try to channel the water."

He rummaged through his suit pockets and cursed under his breath. As for me, I set the radio's headphones on top of the headboard and leaned back in my leather seat.

"Ah-ha!" the admiral pulled out a golden coin the size of a large pebble and started to make the water of the Atlantic rise and spray diagonally. A faint rainbow faded in.

"O Goddess accept my offering," he flicked the coin with his thumb and disappeared into the invisible spectrum, "Colonel Tavington at Portsmouth, England."

An image appeared. It seemed to be in the men's room by the looks of it. Then I heard a _FLUSH_ from one of the stalls and a man in deep green commissioner suit walked out, straightening his black tie underneath.

"Is he mortal?" I whispered to Admiral Carthage.

"Son of Athena, actually," he replied, "We were friends back at Camp Half-Blood."

"No Styx."

Then Tavington caught his breath for a second and turned to us, "Stop sending people into cardiac arrests! You could kill someone!"

"My bad," Carthage sarcastically stated, "What's up with the _HMS Annihilator_?"

"I heard they were halfway to your position but then we lost contact with them. When they tried to reply, all we got out was screeches."

"Same with us. Except all our stations were cut out."

Colonel Tavington adjusted his black military cap, "Possibly rogue harpies."

"Dude," Desmond spoke up, "they also could be cockatrices."

"If you sent your coordinates to them, they'll probably come towards you. Beware, though, nothing says a ghost ship can be hostile," the colonel wiped his hand through the Iris-message. The spraying water dropped into the sea again. Heck, I'm up for another fight. But a ghost ship? Ghosts scare the Styx out of me, man.

* * *

**Morse Code Translation:**_USS Suburbia, do you copy? This is the HMS Annihilator of the Royal Navy requesting repetition of coordinates._


	4. Recording

**Sorry I wasn't able to update sooner; my Internet is screwed up from all the viruses.**

* * *

"That was lame," I stated.

"We don't even know where the _HMS Annihilator_ is," Desmond said, "Good plan, Tim."

Carthage's face tensed, "Don't call me that. I hate being called Tim."

"It's your name," I said, "You should use it."

"I don't, thanks to a rebellious son of Athena that wants me dead on a stake."

"Ha! I bet its Hitler."

He really wanted to get off the subject because his face showed it, "You guys better rest if you want to fight a ghost ship."

I muttered about poltergeists and realized how late it was. The stars were out and reflecting across the cluttered ocean, even when the sky was partly orange. I immediately heard snoring when Des slammed his head on the inflatable part of the motor boat. Who knew someone so restless could sleep well?

I leaned back and watched the constellations of Pisces, Taurus, and Aries light up the sky. I didn't have a favorite star pattern. All I knew that most of the heroes, animals, and objects were killed because they betrayed the gods. Perseus was like the only hero that had a happy ending. Man, I wish happy endings were frequent. I'd die for a happy ending. Wait… that just defeated the whole purpose; Damn.

In order to get a happy ending, you would have to do something great without having a tragic love affair. I had a few girlfriends back at Camp Half-Blood, but they all broke up with me, and they never had a reason why they did it; So much for love. Anyway, it's basically not about gossip; it's about whether you're a raging, power-hungry monster slayer or a hero that protects his men that is willing to give up a few things in order to save the world.

Unfortunately, I'm not one for personal loyalty. I never learned my fatal flaw. Since the gods don't care, why should I care? Okay, man… just drop it. And I did once I finally fell into a dreamless sleep. Until Carthage managed to wake me up in the middle of the night. A large vessel floated dreadfully in the water as if a giant squid would tear it down at the last minute.

"_HMS Annihilator_," he confirmed, "it looks deserted."

"_Then what in Hades would a ghost ship look like?_" I impatiently whispered.

"You're mom," Desmond replied. I glared at him while Carthage slowly revved the motor and propelled us towards the starboard side of the destroyer ship. It jutted out like a sore thumb in the water. Before the admiral could climb the service ladder, I asked if anyone has a spare weapon.

"Check in the bag," Des half-compelled. I did as he told me to and brought out a pair of daggers that bore dull, metallic blades that tapered to a fine point at the end. Some world of weird weapons we live in.

"What are these?" I asked in disgust.

"Dirks," Carthage replied while climbing the service ladder, "the Scottish Highlanders formerly used them back in the days."

"Of what?"

"Heck if I know; I sucked at history."

"You're making history now," I sheathed the dirks and climbed. He hauled himself over the railing of the _HMS Annihilator_and scouted a few feet before beckoning us over. A fell voice hung in the air like ghostly whispers. Heroes aren't supposed to be afraid of anything, but it looks like this hero has really bad phasmaphobia with a case of ADHD and dyslexia; Not exactly what you call a "true" hero. I unsheathed my dirks while my hands shivered. Desmond wasn't afraid of anything. Though, he acts like he's holding back something he's not telling me and I ignore it most of the time. He took out his celestial bronze dagger and held it firmly against his thigh. The admiral grabbed the knife out of his suit pocket, lifted the leather, and his magic sword sprang to life.

Ghostly whispers became more distraught like the sobbing of victims that lost their loved ones during a horrible incident. We crept across the artillery deck of the ghost ship. When I turned the corner, I froze in place and stared ahead at the large midnight black mastiff chewing on a deceased body.

Carthage caught up with me, "What?"

I pointed in front of me and whispered, "Hellhound."

Just then, Des slowly turned the corner at the opposite end of the deck with a pistol aimed at the hellhound. Carthage tried to shake his head and I stood like I'd just been (emotionally) petrified by a basilisk. I wish I hadn't thought that, because I heard slithering against wood and metal from behind us. Without thinking, I turned around and pierced my dirk into the shoulder of what it looked like to be a Scythian dracaenae. She burst into a cloud of sulfur.

A loud bark echoed the entire deck. When the hellhound tried to bark again, a gunshot fired and a yelp followed afterwards. Footsteps marched towards us and Desmond turned the corner while blowing the smoke from the barrel of his pistol.

"Had to send the bitch to Tartarus before she alerted everyone," he growled, "There are more of those beasts patrolling the railing of the ship."

"Follow me to the radio center," the admiral started, "We need to get the last recorded transmission before they were commandeered—find out why these monsters were set loose."

"Can I ask a question?" I blurted.

Carthage motioned me to continue.

"Are you a regular admiral or a fleet admiral?"

He turned his back on me and turned the corner, "Can't you tell by the badges?"

I dumbly said while Des trailed in front of me, "Umm…?"

"Fleet admirals have five stars and four blades while regular admirals have four stars and three blades," he replied as I finally caught up with him, "I was promoted according to my command at sea with the help of Colonel Tavington and his strategic positions."

"So… is that a high rank?"

"I guess so. I'm not in the army, I'm with the navy. Plus he's British if you pay attention to his accent."

"What's that make you?"

He climbed the stairs onto the command deck, "Australian."

I let that sink in as soon as I reached the doorway to the radio center. I never knew that Timothy Carthage was an Australian; then again, I never pay attention to people's accents. It just seems weird to me.

When I walked in, the door in the back of the room seemed to thud like someone is trying to kick it down. Screeches and yells bellowed behind it.

"You get on that radio, Alex," Des barked, warily holding his bronze dagger out in front of him. I ran towards the table with transmitting equipment on the recording module. I made a grab for the headphones and turned the dial on the recording.  
"Die sea scum!" a voice hissed behind the door. Static filled my ears until it cleared.

_HMS Annihilator to Portsmouth, do you copy? We lost communication with the USS Suburbia. Wait—what the—_

A slicing sound echoed through the headphones and another voice hissed with laughter.

_Your preciousss ssship is now oursss, Colonel Roy Tavington. Either you stop meddling in the lord'sss affairsss, or you're going to be dragged to the bottom of the sssea along with that thief and the ssson of Aresss. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy our little presssent we sssent you. Your half brother will be pleasssed if you do._

Then the recording ended with static. Suddenly, the door in the back of the room exploded and a few of those midget people stormed the room along with two large giants flanking the sides. Their muscles rippled under tattered shirts, teeth were like an alligator's, and their chests were like shag carpets.

One of them put their pawed foot on Desmond, who was struggling to get up.

"This one is feisty," the hairy giant muttered. Carthage and I drew our weapons.

"Hehe! Looks like I'm going to do the honors now, Argius," the other growled, "Lets see what you make of our little friend."

He stepped away from the door while some type of large mutant animal that was mixed between a dragon and a rooster trotted in. Its skeletal-like tail was curled in a deadly kind of way, almost like its eyes. The wings were part leather-part feathery and the mane on the cockatrice's head was like a frill-necked lizard except it was more skeletal. The rest of the body seemed feathery... unless they were dangerously sharp like thousands of blades.

The killer munchkins prodded the giant rooster towards us. I barred my dirks in front of me in case it lunges at us.

"Whatever you do," Carthage whispered next to me, "do _not_ let it breathe on you."

"Breathe on me. Got it."

* * *

**Edit: The original chapter for the story was a message from the Oracle, but I had second thoughts. The "BIG BAD" prophecy would be given to Chiron after the Battle of the Bulge. Then after WWII, the gods decide not to sire childeren. Blah blah this, blah blah that. You get the picture. Also, you will see little to no romance in the story. And Alex and Des are "Frenemies" not homosexual.**


	5. Radar

**Sorry for not updating in a long time. I had major writer's block and I was busy researching for a school project.**

* * *

As expected, the killer mutant cautiously eyed us and took one step at a time towards us with its large chicken feet. I could already smell its breath from here. Des tried pounding the legs of the giant but a few of those midgets strapped his wrists down with some type of glowing celestial chain to the floor.

"Alex!" he wailed, "Get away from it!"

Getting me distracted was a fatal mistake. Jenkins the cockatrice made a loud screech that could take out the glass of a window and lunged at us. I rolled to the side while Carthage took the first swing to the abdomen but the blade clanged as if the feathers were real steel and maybe a few sparks of flame sheered off. The cockatrice turned, reared up like a horse, and clawed at Carthage's arm. He yelled in pain and stumbled backwards.

As for me, I went in for the kill; I attempted to stab Jenkins near the neck area and he—she—whatever you want to call it—turned and sidestepped away from me. It managed to nip at my fingers, but only left a small drop of blood. I felt a bit weakened with a small burning in my hand.

"Die already!" Argius growled at me. I ignored him and jabbed the cockatrice into its lower neck. A loud screech erupted from Jenkins just before he disintegrated into flames. Huh; Monsters don't do that. Suddenly, the burning sensation in my hand spread to my wrist. Why can't I just be left alone for once?

Des got the upper hand and kicked Argius in his soft spot, making him stumble and double over in pain. Desmond drew his bronze dagger and shoved it into the giant's spine and ripped downwards, only to leave Argius bursting into a shower of sulfur.

Carthage lifted himself up and joined the fight into destroying three of the seven hobbit people while I ran over to kill the other giant who was barring fists at me. He swung at me but I sidestepped and sunk my right dirk into his arm.

"YAAAH!" he screamed in pain, "Oreius will crush you!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" I backfired. Oreius tried to throw another punch but he underestimated me and I jabbed him one more time into order to turn him into a cloud of yellow powder. Once the rest of the midgets were dead and gone, the _HMS Annihilator_'s alarm went off.

"C'mon!" Des yelled and grabbed my arm, "We gotta' sink the ship!"

"B-but we don't have any explosives!" I reminded him.

"I remember picking up the mines that the dwarves were planting on the _USS Suburbia_. We could use those," the admiral suggested.

I nodded and followed him onto the command deck. The horizon was now dark purple instead of black. We slashed through other Scythian dracaenae along the way and knocked a few little men into the Atlantic Ocean. When we reached the motor boat, I slid down the service ladder and rummaged through the green army sack.

Almost immediately, I grabbed a grenade belt and a spare canteen of nectar from the sack. I hurled the belt up to Carthage, who grabbed it and ran off to find Des. Drinking the nectar, it tasted like my mom's homemade pumpkin pie. Sweet custard filling with a crispy cinnamon crust just makes my entire body feel like I'm having the smoothest massage of my life. I wonder if Olympian pies were better…

My ADHD started to sidetrack me, so I pushed the thought of pies away and the burning sensation from my hand slowly faded. I climbed the ladder two rungs at a time and jumped over the _Annihilator_'s railing. More dracaenae sighted me when I ran to the far end of the deck and ran down the stairs_._ Des and Admiral Carthage were strapping the grenade belt to one of the fuel pipes in the back of the room.

"What took you so long?" Desmond grunted.

"No time to explain," I panted, "Monsters are on my—"

"ALEX MOVE!"

I immediately rolled to the right just before one of the Scythian dracaenae brought her scimitar to the floor. Then I heard something go_ WHISSH _and the dracaenae burst into a cloud of sulfur. Des sheathed his dagger that so happened to be out of his pocket.

"Idiot," he called me and turned around to work on the strapping.

After the grenade belt was fully wrapped across the engine room, I helped Carthage set the detonator to five minutes. That would give us enough time to bail out of here before the ship turns into a full blown inferno. Bye-bye ghost ship.

"Ready?" Des said. His hands were gripped on the metal leverage key.

Both of us nodded and he yanked the key out of the hole. As soon as we made a break for it, the clock started ticking. We dashed up the stairs and bashed through hordes of midget-men while making our way to the lower artillery deck. When we'd reached the front end of the _HMS Annihilator_, Carthage literally jumped off the railing and plunged into the Atlantic. Sons of Poseidon really _are_ radical.

Then, I don't know what Des was doing but he quickly threw his bronze dagger toward some stumbling Scythian dracaenae and most of them exploded into columns of powder.

"Gimme' one of your dirks!" he barked.

I did as he asked and he charged forward. Both of us backed the dracaenae and midget men to the railing. Below us, Admiral Carthage was steering the motor boat and ushered us to jump in.

That's when I saw it. About a kilometer north of us was a buoy-like figure rising above the water and it billowed smoke like a train.

"Jump, mate!" the admiral ordered. I slashed the last dragon woman and immediately leaped over the railing and into the Atlantic waters. I am so going to blame all this on Carthage when we arrive in Portsmouth.

When Desmond appeared next to me, he grabbed my white sailor's shirt and pulled me to the surface. Carthage hauled me into the boat, followed by Des. Before I could say anything, he revved the motor and took us far away from the _HMS Annihilator_ as possible. Just then, the destroyer blew up like an airplane missile just exploded from the inside.

Carthage sighed, "Another innocent ship blown up. I'm gonna' be lawsuited over this now."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," a familiar voice said.

I turned my head to see the surface of a British Undersea boat floating next to us. On top of the hull was a man dressed in a deep green commissioner's suit: Colonel Roy Tavington.

"Nice job on the _Annihilator_, Admiral. I'm impressed."

"Just get us to Portsmouth," Carthage said, throwing our supply sacks over to Roy.

"We'll hurry. Besides, we've already spotted a few sea serpents just west of here. Think you could handle that?"

We boarded the U-boats hull and Carthage nodded.

Once we were inside the U-boat, I was literally stunned. So many people were at the radars and shuffling everywhere was about to drive me insane... including the enclosed space. I felt like I was going to die now.

"Okay men, back to Portsmouth! Dive, dive, dive!" Tavington ordered while pounding his fist into his hand. Almost immediately, I could hear the water rise above us. The submarine radar echoed throughout the submergible. _Burr... burr... burr... burr._

Des looked at me, "If you get sick, the seasick bags are in the back."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I said, "I'm good."

After a long tour of the U-boat (given by Roy himself), I was assigned the radar and the radar while Des was to refit the torpedoes at the front and back of the submarine, but at least my job was easier than worrying about dropping a missile and making the entire Undersea-boat turn into serpent chow.

A few nautical miles out west, something was spotted on the radar... and it was _big_.

"Uh... Colonel? You better come see this," I said.

Tavington marched into the room and leaned in closer to see the radar.

His eyes widened, "Not a leviathan."

"What the heck is a leviathan?"

"An amphibious drakon, looks like one of the adults too. I better get Carthage to take command."

All too soon, a rumble echoed, followed by metal creaking.


End file.
